


A Childhood with the Dursleys

by LittlePrincePotter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse, Beating, Child Abuse, Molestation, Rape, electric shock, triggering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-07-18 06:49:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7303885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittlePrincePotter/pseuds/LittlePrincePotter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a lot what I imagine Harry's childhood would be like. This may be very triggering so please think before you read. I do not own any of the characters except Damian Dursley. JK Rowling owns the rest of the characters and the Harry Potter series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Childhood with the Dursleys

    "Please stop!"  
    /Crack!/  
    The small boy lay on the floor, blood running down his pale forehead and flowing into his brunette bangs. The right lens of his circular glasses lay in shards on the wooden floor. A pair of large, hairy hands with sausage like fingers picked up the boy by his worn, his oversized sweater, his jeans falling down almost to his knees as he was lifted. His worn, graying underwear showed a wet stain.   
     "Petunia!" A gruff, deep voice called with a hint of disgust decorating the word as he looked at the small boy he was holding. A door swung open at the end of the completely wooden hallway. A blonde woman with a scrunched face and brown, rat-like eyes emerged from the doorway. Her lips were glossy and her face seemed frozen in a look of displeasure and disgust. Her perfectly ironed green-blue sundress with a yellow floral pattern fluttered slightly and her black heels tapped against the wooden floor as she shuffled forward.  
     "Oh Vernon," she sighed, looked at the boy he dangled as though he was a dead animal, "How hard did you hit him?"  
    "I don't know," the fat man replied, the hairs of his mustache moving slightly. His white tank top was stretched tight over his large stomach and was splattered with food stains. His jeans clung to his ginormous thighs and calves. His combed and sprayed hair was a graying blonde and his murky green eyes looked like the bottom of a swamp. His cheeks looked like those of a squirrel who had stuffed it's face full of nuts.   
    "What are we gonna tell the police if he dies?" Petunia asked the walrus-like man, jabbing her bony finger with a perfectly manicured nail at the bleeding child.   
    "No one is going to miss him," the man replied.   
    "The school is going to notice if a child randomly goes missing," she replied, "and then what are we going to tell the police?"  
   The man sighed in reply, his thick neck moving slightly with the air.   
   "You fix him then," he said, shoving the boy toward her carelessly, as if handing her an old rag doll that he expected her to throw out. She took the boy from him like he was a teddy bear she didn't particularly care for: wrapping an arm underneath his armpits and not bothering to support his head.   
  "Fine, but all his yelling probably woke my poor Dudykins. You go put him back to bed," she told him, waving him away. The man huffed before trudging up the stairs. She clicked her tongue softly in displeasure before heading up the wooden stairs after him. With each step, the boy's limp head rolled backward and forward. Blood was spilling down his old sweater now, red sinking into the worn gray. She opened a white door on her left and walked onto the pristine white tile. The walls were a sickly yellow with a pattern of peach-coloered diamonds. She turned one of the knobs to the plain white tub without even checking if she turned on the hot or the cold water. The woman laid the boy down on the cold tile and looked at him, revolted. He might as well have been a dead fish. Slowly, with lots of muttering, she stripped him. She threw his glasses off carelessly. They'd need to get him a new lense anyway. The sweater stuck to his skin, wet with blood, but she just tugged mercilessly until it came off. She audibly groaned in disgust when she got to his wet underwear. Petunia didn't take them off before she laid the boy in the tub, his head rolling back. Her bony hand took in it an old rag, soaked in peroxide. She pushed it down into the wound, which made a sickening squelching sound as she did. Crimson soon soaked the rag as she repeated the process of pushing the rag into the wound, pulling it out, pouring more peroxide on it, and pushing it back in. "That should be disinfected enough," she mumbled to herself, looking at the wound. It was deep. The puddle of crimson stood out against the boy's pale skin. Droplets of ruby streamed down his cheek and around his nose, lightly grazing his lips before falling from his face. Her thin, wrinkled fingers worked a needle through the skin around the wound, over and over again as she feebly attempted to stitch it. At the third stitch, a small whimper left the child's pink lips. His eyes cracked open slightly, emerald irises peaking through like the sun peaking through the curtains on a warm Spring morning.   
   "It... it hurts," he said in a small, soft voice.   
   "I know it hurts. Just stay still and be quiet. If you wake my little Dudykins up again, you'll be sleeping outside," Petunia said, rolling her eyes. The boy obeyed, only whimpering quietly when she was particularly rough with the needle. Tears made fresh streams over the stains that had been left on his cheeks from the beating. He did his best not to shift in the water that burned his sensitive skin. When Petunia had finished, she duct taped a few bandages over the wound, one of the pieces overlapping the lightning scar on the other side of his forehead that distinguished him from other children. He had received it when he was one years old, from the man that murdered his parents. That was six years ago.  
      "Can you walk?" Petunia asked, standing and putting her hands on her hips.  
      "I think so," he answered quietly, now freely squirming in the burning water.  
      "What are you waiting for then?" She asked with plain out annoyance, "Go to your cupboard."  
     The child stood slowly, his legs shaking slightly. He climbed out of the tub, almost falling multiple times. The boy hurried down the stairs as quickly as he could, clinging to the rail as he did to find his way with his terrible eyesight. When the door of the cupboard clicked shut behind him, he collapsed onto his mattress, which was stained with blood from less severe beatings. Ripping his dripping wet underwear off and throwing it, he pulled his tattered, thin, old blanket up on him.   
                              ************  
    "So what's your name?"  
    "Harry Potter."  
    "And how old are you?"  
    "I'm eight."  
    "Well I'm your uncle Damian. I'm Vernon's brother," the man said. His hair was platinum blonde and he had the same murky eyes as Vernon. He was thin and lanky, unlike his large sibling. He was slightly tanner than his brother with more muscular arms. His t-shirt was a plain light blue and his beige cargo shorts revealed his hairy calves. An olive green baseball cap sat on his hair. Harry didn't really care though. His cupboard was really only big enough for one person with the mattress in it and he felt cramped with this man in here.  
    "I have to go make breakfast," he said, looking up at the man. Confusion showed clearly on Damian's face.  
    "What?" He asked   
    "I have to go make breakfast and get uncle Vernon his coffee," the brunette explained. Damian broke into a grin.  
   "They went out to breakfast," he replied.  
   "Oh," was all the boy said, figuring he wasn't going to be fed today.  
   "But we're going out, too," the man said, chuckling at the baffled look that crossed the boy's face, "Do you have any shirts to wear except old sweaters?"  
  "No," Harry replied.  
  "Well it's good that I brought you something then," the man grinned as he pulled a shirt out from behind his back. It was a light blue shirt with a depiction of a brown teddy bear on it.  
  "For... for me?" The brunette asked, timidly taking the shirt.   
  "Just for you," he replied, giving a small wink. The child felt tears on the edges of his eyes.   
  "Thank you," he said, smiling wide. He pulled on his new shirt and his old, black sneakers.  Damian wrapped his arms around the boy, lifting him.  
   "You're okay," he assured Harry when he gasped in surprise. He wrapped his arm around the boy's torso and supported his rear with the other. He carried him out to a black car, setting him gently in the passenger seat. 

   "Do you like your waffles?" The male asked, resting his chin on his hand as he stared at the young boy.  
   "Mhm," he grunted, chewing his next bite. He swallowed and looked at the older man, "Thank you."  
  "Not a problem," he said, running his fingers through the boy's hair and twirling a few locks of the soft strands around his index finger leisurely, "You like water Harry? Do you like to swim?"   
    "I don't know how to swim," he replied.   
    "I'll teach you," his uncle replied, stroking his cheek.

    After a quick trip to the store to pick Harry out a swim suit, the two headed to the public pool and changed: Damian into a pair of camouflage swim trunks and Harry into a dark blue speedo that Damian had picked out for him.  
    "Let me put sunscreen on you now Baby," Damian said, kneeling down next to the pale boy. No one had ever called Harry "baby" before.  
   "I can do it," he replied, reaching for the bottle that the adult held.   
   "Let me do it for you Baby. I want to be sure your precious skin won't burn," he told him, kissing Harry's head. Harry smiled. He liked the positive attention, it was something he never recieved. He nodded and his uncle began to spread the lotion over him with an expression that Harry didn't recognize. He was rubbing it on awfully slow. It made the boy sort of uneasy, but when his uncle began to tickle him, he forgot all about it. Damian scooped up the giggling boy and set him gently in a chair as he began to put his own sunscreen on. 

      "Don't let go!"  
      "I won't let go until you're ready."  
      "I'm scared."  
      "You're doing great. Just keep kicking," Damian said as he held the little boy's hands. Harry kicked at the water, moving with his uncle Damian.   
     "I'm doing it! I'm doing it!" The boy soon cried of joy.   
     "Yes you are," the blonde said with a small smile, "I'm gonna let go now okay?" When he released, Harry continued to swim just fine. Damian bit down on his lip as he watched him. "Good job Baby." He scooped Harry up and gave him a kiss on the cheek. The boy giggled and smiled wildly.   
    "I did it!" He said through his fit of giggles.  
    "Yes you did. How about ice cream to celebrate?"  
     "Okay!"

     This was the best day that Harry Potter had had since being left on the Dursleys doorstep. First came breakfast, swimming, and ice cream. Then they went to the park and played until they went out for dinner. After dinner they went a movie that Harry had always wanted to see called "Finding Nemo." The boy was so hopped up on sugar, he wasn't even settled down when Damian carried him into the house at nine o'clock.  
   "You want to sleep with Uncy Damian tonight?" The man asked the child that bounced up and down in his arms. This only made the child bounce more and nod enthusiastically.   
    He only became more ecstatic when Damian set him down in the white, queen sized bed with clean sheets and a soft blanket. The room was painted sea foam green. It had two white night stands and a matching dresser with mirror. There was also a closet with a light brown door. By the closet were two black suitcases that Harry safely assumed belonged to Damian. The room smelled of vanilla. Petunia had probably burned a vanilla scented candle in here while they were gone to make sure the room smelled nice. Warm. Clean. Things that his dusty old cupboard lacked a majority of the time. He kicked off his shoes and socks, giggling and bouncing around the bed.   
     "I'm going to go take a bath," Damian said, sitting down on the bed, looking at the young boy.   
    "Okay," he replied, smiling up at this man he was beginning to think of as his saviour. Damian placed a hand on Harry's lower back, letting out a low hum.  
   "You should come take a bath with me," he said, now curling his arm around the boy's waist. Harry tilted his head, confused.  
   "We can do that?" He asked.  
   "Mhm. And I'm gonna show you something," Damian replied, his grin becoming slowly more awful.  
   "What?" Harry asked, the curiosity and excitement he felt showing as clear as day in his voice.   
   "Something really special. Usually only adults do it but I think I can show you. It's gonna feel really good okay?"  
   "Okay."

   Tears poured down the young orphan's face as he was held tight by the naked man. Damian was fast asleep under the covers in the dark room, but still had an iron grip. Harry pulled the blanket as tight as he could around him, trying to cover his bare skin. His hair was still soaked from the bath he had taken with his uncle. After the bath had been over, Damian had put a robe know and wrapped Harry in a towel.   
    "See? Didn't that feel good?" He had asked him as he kissed the boy's head. Harry had been holding back tears at that point. What pushed him over the edge was Damian pulling him into a less-than-soft-on-the-mouth kiss under the covers, before he went to sleep and saying just one sentence before he dozed off: "We should do this again."

                                   ********  
     "I hope you enjoyed your year at that nut house because you're never going back again!" Vernon announced to the eleven-year-old as he drove home from King's Cross Station. The argument that insued was one of the worst arguments Harry had ever had with the Dursley's, and that's certainly saying something.  
   It only escalated as the drive progressed. It got even worse when the two walked in the house, each slamming the door behind him. The fight made its way into the kitchen. By this time, Petunia was on her feet and heading down the stairs to come back up her husband in this loud fight.   
   "Magic is a bunch of hooey!" Vernon yelled, his face red with fury.  
   "Magic is real and I'm a wizard!" The boy replied, his cheeks turning pink as well.  
   Vernon rushed passed Harry and up the stairs.  
  "Don't you move boy!" He called to him as he passed by Petunia.  
   "Look what you've done know," Petunia chided the boy as her husband ran upstairs,                "look at how worked up my poor husband is. When he gets back down here, you'd best apologize and behave yourself."  
    He didn't have the time to apologize. Vernon had retrieved his old, black pistol.   
   "Vernon what are you doing?!" Petunia screamed as he picked Harry up by the front of his shirt and shoved him against the wall, pushing the barrel of his gun into Harry's mouth.  
  "You wanna say that again boy? Because I know exactly how to get that idea out of your head!" He yelled, his large lips flapping like flags in the wind, spit flying everywhere, almost like rain. Harry kicked and squirmed, his adrenaline pumping. He grabbed at Vernon's arm, trying to get him to let him go. He couldn't even wrap his hands around the massive arm.   
   "I could blow your brains out right now boy! I could blow them out right now and no one would miss ya!" He screamed. 'This is it,' Harry thought, 'After everything that happened this year, this is how I'm gonna die.' Petunia was screeching at Vernon to stop and Hedwig was hooting as loud as she could, frantically flapping her wings as much as she could in her cage. Vernon kept those swamp-like eyes locked on Harry's like a death sentence as he continued to berate him at the top of his lungs.   
     Harry's feet dangled off the ground. He was so busy struggling he didn't even hear a familiar voice yelling, "Dad! Dad stop!" He only realized what was happening when he hit the ground. He looked up to see Dudley Dursley, the boy who had bullied him all these years, pushing Vernon back. He didn't take the time to process it or to ask why, he just stood, grabbed Hedwig, and rushed up the stairs. He closed the door to his room quickly and let Hedwig out of her cage. He sat up against the head board on his bed, his chest heaving. The snowy owl took a spot on his lap and hooted softly, as if telling Harry he would be okay, and that she cared about him. He smiled and pet the sweet animal.   
    "Thanks," he whispered into the air.  
                                 ******  
    The ride home from King's Cross Station was unusually silent. Harry didn't mind though. He was too busy thinking about Sirius. He was thirteen and he finally had something close to a family member. He was so deep in thought that he almost jumped out of his skin when Vernon started talking.   
   "I have a present for you," the walrus-like man said. 'Oh no,' Harry thought, 'this can't be good.' The rest of the ride home he wondered what was going to happen to him. Vernon could be a cruel man.   
     
    When they got home Vernon carried Harry's things inside.  
    "Let's go up to your room boy," he said, taking Harry by the arm. Harry obeyed and followed. Once they were in his room, Vernon reached into Harry's pocket and ripped his wand any from him.  
    "Give that back!" He cried, trying to retrieve his wand. Vernon shoved him back onto the bed and quickly latched something that Harry couldn't see around his neck. When the sausage like fingers were no longer anywhere near Harry's throat, he looked down. He had felt cold metal jabbing into his skin. Harry saw a black, leather collar with metal pieces about an inch and a half long, poking him in the neck. It was a shock collar for dogs. Harry reached his a hand up to rip it off and felt a sudden shock of pain. He whimpered and looked at Vernon, who was holding the remote. He played with the dial a bit and pressed a button. The next shock was more painful than the next. He pressed it again without touching the dial. Now that Harry was expecting it, he grit his teeth and waited for it to be over, howerever, it wasn't that easy. After the fifth turn of the dial, Harry was whimpering and grunting in pain with each shock. By the ninth turn he was screaming and squirming, tears rolling down his cheeks. Vernon turned the dial one more time and pressed. A scream escaped Harry as he urinated on himself.   
     Vernon laughed loudly as he pulled the collar off his nephew and exited the room. Harry's face was red from crying and from embarrassment. He stood shakily and stumbled over to the mirror on the inside of the door of his open wardrobe. There were two bright red marks where the rods of the collar had touched him. Hedwig hooted from her cage across the room. She had been screeching the whole time. Harry smiled and walked over, letting her out of the cage. She immediatly began to gently nip and lick at his face. He giggled and pet her as she did this.   
     "Thank you for the kisses Hedwig, but I'm fine," he told the animal. A disapproving hoot came from owl.  
     "Of course I'm not going to tell anyone Hedwig," Harry replied to her hoot, "No one needs to worry about me, and that includes you. Besides, I can take care of myself."  
                               *******  
    Harry paced uneasily across the floor of his room. School had let out a week ago. He was going to be turning fifteen this Summer, but none of that was on his mind at the moment. He usually made breakfast and dinner for the Dursleys over the Summer, but Petunia had insisted to make dinner tonight. This scared the Gryffindor boy.  
    "Dinner boys!" Petunia called up the stairs. Harry hurried down the stairs and sat in front of his plate. There was chicken, macaroni, and green beans. This was probably the best meal the Dursleys had ever given him. By his plate was a glass of lemonade. It smelled wonderful. It almost reminded Harry of Hogwarts.  
   He had started eating slowly, but soon lost himself in the taste. He cleared his plate and drank all of his lemonade. "Thank you. It was very good," he said, nodding to Petunia. He stood to clean his plate, and nearly fell over. He suddenly felt very dizzy, very tired. He took only three steps before his knees buckled. 

   The Boy Who Lived woke up with the feeling of cold metal around his wrists. He looked up to see he had been hand cuffed to his bed posts. What disturbed him even more is that he felt the cool air nipping his entire body. All of his clothes had been taken.   
     "Hey there."  
      He looked over to see none other than uncle Damian sitting in the edge of the bed. He grinned at him.  
     "Are you ready to have some fun Harry?"  
                             **********  
    "Hello?"  
    "This is the Malfoy residence."  
    "Oh um, I'm looking for my cousin Harry."  
    "Wait a minute, Dudley?"  
    "Harry?" Asked the familiar voice on the other end of the line.   
    "Yeah. It's me," Harry replied, "why.... why are you calling?"  
    "Listen, I know we didn't get along really well when we were kids and I wanted to apologize. I also wanted to tell you the good news," he answered.  
       "What good news?" The raven-haired man asked.  
    "My daughter just got her Hogwarts acceptance letter."


End file.
